This is the thirteenth part of a fiction serial, in 1240 words.

Candy couldn’t believe her luck. Maurice handed over the cash, and smiled. “I look forward to seeing you again, young lady, very soon. You have courage, and that is rare, in my world. Now go, and tell your friends that Maurice is interested in as much as he can get”. She had released her grip on the knife, and handed over the eighteen bags of coke as soon as Edward appeared with the money. Outside, she still had to deal with Tyrone. She correctly guessed that he might have decided to rip her off for the cash, but her speech inside had worried him, and he wondered who she might be working for. He took the computer stuff, and the tie pins and cuff-links, as well as the talking-computer thing. He didn’t have a bag, so stuffed it all in his pockets, carrying the bigger items wrapped in his unzipped jacket. Candy headed for Uncle Brian’s flat, hoping that he was still out of it. She felt a bit shaky on the way, and had to stop at the corner for a while. She hadn’t had any crack for ages, and despite the shivers, was wondering if she could get through this, and get off it.

Jack felt sick. He guessed Terry was hurt bad, or dead, and hoped that the fast-arriving Police units had captured Koz too. He decided to sleep in a park that night, well away from his usual haunts. Tomorrow, he would change his life for good. Time to try again.

Toby woke up, to find it was dark. He had a pain in his back between his shoulder blades, but only there. Below that, he couldn’t feel a thing. The smell told him that he had most likely shit himself, but there was no sensation inside his trousers. He couldn’t move his arms or legs, and looked at them helplessly, as his brain told him they might be moving, but they were definitely not. The metal unit was cutting into him, and he felt very thirsty. It suddenly occurred to him that the cleaning lady would not be arriving until lunchtime tomorrow, and then he passed out again.

Uncle Brian was still out of it, so Candy threw a couple of twenties on the sofa, and left with one of the keys. She took the short walk to her Mum’s flat, and looked up at the window. Despite the late hour, all the lights were blazing, so she walked up the four flights, and used the key to get in. Her Mum was sprawled on the sofa, two of the smaller children fast asleep next to her. She was watching ‘Big Brother’, and hadn’t bothered to turn down the volume. Even though she hadn’t seen her daughter for many months, there was little surprise on her face as she spoke. “Kerry. What are you doing here? And what have you done to your hair?” Luckily, Mum’s boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Candy handed over a hundred in cash. “I just need to get some of my stuff, and stay over tonight, Mum. Then you’ll never see me again”. The shabby-looking woman waved a hand at her daughter, and returned to her TV show. “Do what you want. I couldn’t care less”. The last words Candy would ever hear from her.

Jack settled down in the private gardens that looked like a small park. Nobody was likely to enter them this late, and even without his sleeping bag, he could manage. He had climbed the railing, and settled down under the hedges at the back. Little chance of discovery in such a smart area, as long as he roused himself at first light. He was hungry and thirsty, but would just have to put up with it.

Candy’s little half-brother was sleeping in her old bed. He must have been around six years old now, and he was totally flat out. She stripped off her dirty clothes, then put the light on, to see what was left of her old stuff. She went through the bits in the wardrobe and chest of drawers, laughing to herself at how old fashioned it seemed already. But it was respectable, she couldn’t deny that. She changed into some leggings and a sweatshirt, putting everything else carefully into the bag, on top of the money. Grabbing an old stuffed toy from a shelf above the bed as a pillow, she settled down on the floor, trying to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new start, she told herself. She would stay off the crack, get herself straight, and try to begin again somewhere new. Sleep wasn’t easy to come by, but she eventually drifted off.

When Jack woke up, his first stop was the back of the bank, just behind The Strand. He had no idea that Toby worked there of course. He didn’t even know who Toby was. He felt inside the slots leading to the vanes of the air-conditioning. It was early enough for nobody to take much notice, and he soon felt the strings attached to the plastic bags of money. Sliding them carefully through his fingers, he retrieved the four bags one by one, and put them inside his coat. A short walk to outside the Quaker House just off St Martin’s Lane gave him the chance to count the money in private. He was happy enough. Four eighty five, and whatever change he had in his pockets. That would do. Maybe Bristol didn’t offer that much anymore, but at least he knew the city. And he had enough for a cheap hotel, something to get started with. His stuff in the bin bags could stay there. Whatever happened, he had no intention of ever coming back.

Candy left her Mum’s before eight. She was wearing some jeans and a pink top under the red coat, the comfy Converse on her feet, with no socks. Everything worth taking, including the leggings and that old top from last night, was in the bag. The old clothes felt loose now, making her aware just how much weight she had lost in such a short time. She would get a bus into town, and go to any station. Choose a destination, and start a new life there. She didn’t feel that clean, and could have done with brushing her teeth too. But that could wait. She had almost five grand, and the world was there for the taking. She ignored the increased tingling that was telling her body she needed crack. If necessary, she would shack up in a cheap hotel, and ride that out. On the bus crowded with rush-hour travellers, she thought about the various main line stations, and the destinations on offer. Perhaps East, or maybe North. She didn’t know much outside her small world, so it really didn’t matter. North was colder though, so maybe not there.

Jack was outside the barber shop in Soho before it opened. He walked in under the barely-raised shutter, and showed the Greek bloke some money. “I need a shampoo, full haircut, and shave. How Much?”
Stelios looked the guy over. “With that much hair, and how dirty it is, quite a lot. And that beard is more like gardening, than barbering. Let’s say twenty-five, or you can go somewhere else.” Jack counted out the notes and placed them on the sink in front of the chair. “OK, do it all”.

To be continued…